


Dead God

by Mikey B (MaiCheese)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Depression, Implied Death, Light Angst, Please read notes, References to Depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-16 22:31:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19327423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaiCheese/pseuds/Mikey%20B
Summary: A woman makes a journey from the top of a hill to an abandoned village. What happened to the people? Who is she and why is she still there?





	Dead God

**Author's Note:**

> I made this on a whim. Depression has been getting to me so I distracted myself with this quick story. 
> 
> OC Partially inspired by Silky from Ancient Magnus' Bride
> 
> I also wrote this while listening to AmaLee's Version of Promised Neverland- Isabella's Lullaby. I'll leave the link if you'd like to listen while reading. -->https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L_N9wdBKxAg
> 
> Edited:6/25/19  
> 02/16/2020

From on top of the grassy hill, the wind flutters through her hair crowned with woven ivy. Long black locks caress her face as she gazes over the valley. The forest below, while so vast, is still. The only sounds heard are her own breaths and the rustle of trees. The emptiness of the land only brings more despair as the emptiness within her heart. She rises from her position and strolls down the hill. Soft grass cushions her feet. The light of the sun embracing her body.

The desolate village is her destination. Store fronts have crumbled away and overgrown with vines while the streets lay bare. Long since has passed when the village laid in ruins. Yet, she trudges on. Her pace staying constant, only stopping when she needed to open a cottage door. It was the last house standing. 

She enters the living room, setting a little leaf pouch of berries on a table with a wooden idol worn with time. Soon after, she steps into the kitchen, taking the wooden bowl from a shelf. She doesn’t feel any hunger and leaves the kitchen without a thought. Not a second later, when she exits the kitchen, she heads to the bedroom where a comfy and cozy room with a small desk are. Over the window hung light blue and white curtains, a soft light breaking through the openings. It swayed with the breeze. The bed had thick, soft blankets, that had been long since used. 

There are photos of people she could vaguely recognize adorning the walls, their energy gently flowing from it. It crumbles at the light touch of her fingers as unknown memories flood her mind with her own guilt as its fuel. Her chest is tight, and her breath hitches becoming fast and shallow. She releases it with haste letting it fall back against the wall. Cold sweat clings to her porcelain skin. . 

Cutting through the village square, she studied her reflection in one of the store fronts. Her body no longer had its divine glow. Opaque pallor skin pulled tight to her bones and long winding veins snaked across her chest and arms. A large cracked jade stone lay embedded in the center of her bosom. Fragments of the stone fell to the ground as she lightly grazed her fingers across the crack.

Abandoning her reflection, she fills the bowl with the water well nearby. A somber prayer falls from her lips over the water and brought to the monument of the village’s goddess. She pours the blessed water over the goddess’s feet and tosses it, shattering the bowl to pieces.

The statue stood tall and elegant with only the ornament carved onto its chest is in pieces. The jade cracked deeper into the woman's chest as she stared at the monument. Her face dotted with tears, dripping off and into the precious stone below. She faced away from the idol, her head hanging low, and begins her trek back to the lonely hilltop. Nearing the exit, she hesitates.

A ragged whisper escapes her trembling lips, “I’m sorry.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you've gotten through my story, thank you very much. To end, I would like to say that mental illness is very real and has very real consequences. If you feel like you or someone you know needs someone to talk to,please call the Suicide Hotline (USA) \  
> 1-800-273-8255. My OC didn't have a happy ending, but I hope you do. You are not alone!
> 
> P.S. I just refer to her as the Nameless Goddess, which I think is the worst thing that can happen to a god/goddess, so feel free to come up with a less depressing name if you'd like!  
> P.P.S. Be gentle with me in the comments please omg.


End file.
